


Come Inside

by theCorvid



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theCorvid/pseuds/theCorvid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waylon and Lisa welcome Miles into their home in the most intimate way they know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jfk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfk/gifts).



> Part of the gorgeous domestic OT3 universe invented by Chuck and I. We don't have a name for it yet. Love ya, Chuck!

It was just a thought, at first, thrown into the air when Miles was handing out some standard snark. "Would it damage your ego?", he had asked mockingly. Waylon knew he was joking, and it was no big deal. But it made him think. They'd never really talked about it before.

"It's not possessive," Lisa reassured him when he brought it up later. "Well, not in a bad way. It's adorable."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." She said it with such certainty that he had no trouble believing her, and the conversation ended there. But despite him not having any real reason to, he couldn't get it off his mind.

It wasn't that they'd made the decision anywhere down the line. It was just how they'd done it ever since things started. He thinks that to start with, it must have been Miles' common sense, not wanting to encroach on the relationship. He had felt uncomfortable in general, at first - an invader. Waylon remembers the struggle that he and Lisa went through for those initial months, trying to convince Miles of just how welcome he was. But even after that obstacle had been passed, Miles always reached for the wrapper, and they never questioned it. It was his decision. He chose not to go any further. But after Miles asks him that joking question, Waylon starts to wonder if maybe - just maybe - there had been an element of sincerity to it.

-

Waylon might be a little bit possessive. He wouldn't normally place that label on himself, but he's happy to admit that he is, at least in some way, possessive of Lisa, especially when someone else is touching her. He feels no jealousy or resentment, and  _certainly_ no desire to interrupt, when he watches Miles kiss her, no matter how passionate it gets. But he does feel possessive. He's highly aware of the fact that it's happening because he let it. He trusts them, totally, but he's in control of the situation. It's a good feeling - indescribably good. It excites him beyond words to watch them, bodies pressed together, touching each other in all the same ways they touch him. Sometimes that's all he does - watch. He focuses on the sounds Lisa makes when Miles kisses her neck, when he runs his hands down her body to rest on her hips. It's like a show, custom-built for him, starring the two most gorgeous people in his life. If he told them to do something, he'd be indulged, but he doesn't, usually. He just watches them, lets himself get breathless with them, and moans his approval when Miles pushes into her.

He touches her in all the same ways and in all the same places that Waylon does - save for one. And this time, that fact gives him pause.

"Stop," he commands, uncharacteristically but with confidence.

Miles is the first to react - he always is. He lifts himself up on his forearms and looks with full attention at Waylon. "What is it?", he asks, a little short of breath.

"Pull out."

He does, immediately. Lisa inhales at the feeling, and he can tell she wants to whimper at the loss, but she doesn't. Miles sits back on his heels and Waylon just looks at him for a second, appreciating. Miles' eyebrow twitches like it wants to lift, but the two of them remain silent while Waylon tries to collect his thoughts, getting up to kneel at Miles' side. His eyes wander to Miles' erection, hard, glistening and wrapped.

He takes Miles in hand momentarily and gives him a few slow strokes, gaze thoughtfully tracking the movement. Miles' breath hitches, but his eyes are still on Waylon, waiting. Waylon is just stalling - he doesn't know how to say what he wants to say, can't find the words.

Lisa detects the hesitance. Of course she does. She sits up and strokes her hand up his forearm. "Way? Do you want to change the rules?"

He looks to her, eyes soft. Even after so many years, he never ceases to be amazed at how succinctly she communicates. "No, it's not like that. It's wonderful." Then, another moment of thought. "Well... maybe I want to change one rule. Just this once."

Lisa tilts her head. It's so endearing, and she knows it. "Yeah?"

He can't help but smile. His fingers itch to reach out and push her hair behind her ear, so he does it. She's so beautiful. "I think we could... pass on the protection, tonight." His guilt response kicks in as soon as he's finished speaking, and he swallows.

He studies Lisa's face carefully. He wishes he had two sets of eyes, so that he could watch them both at once, gauge their responses simultaneously, but he can't. He finds that he can't see anything but warmth in her, feels it in his body, a loving smile gracing her features, and he knows he doesn't need to ask her if it's okay. When he turns to Miles, he sees trepidation and a mild frown in his brow, but it's irrefutable that his eyes darken deeply. He's holding himself back, doesn't want to come across too eager, but he is. Waylon is suddenly immensely glad he made this choice, and his confidence grows.

"Take it off," he says decisively. Miles complies immediately, rolling it off and going to the bathroom to discard it properly - not a habit he developed himself, but one Waylon eventually drilled into him - and in his absence, Waylon takes a moment to get some more confirmation. He makes eye contact with Lisa again and holds it; her gaze is steady, expression unfaltering, and he wonders why he ever thought Lisa wouldn't speak up if there was a problem. She would, every time, and the reminder comforts him as he watches Miles return to the bedroom. Waylon takes a deep breath as he enjoys the view - Miles is gorgeous, naked and athletic and aroused, and Waylon doesn't think he'll ever be able to see him like this without getting the urge to reach for a camera, as though each sight is better than the last, and might be the best one ever.

Miles climbs back onto the bed. Despite what they know he's about to do, it's not Lisa he's focusing on. His eyes don't leave Waylon, searching for any signal that he has changed his mind. Waylon kisses him. "It's good," he quietly reassures in between their mouths, because he knows 'okay' isn't enough. Pulling back and speaking with an air of authority he usually only reserves for his boys, he continues, "Just do as I say."

"Where's the line?" Miles says. "I need to know where the line is."

Waylon thinks for a moment. He looks at Lisa, still waiting patiently. Her smile has given way to heated anticipation, and she has reclined back onto her forearms. He's not looking for an answer, but he looks at her while he considers, all the same. "Pull out. That's the only rule."

"Okay," Miles replies, and then corrects himself with, "Good."

When Miles climbs back in between Lisa's legs, when he kisses her, it's different for Waylon to watch. Good different. It's intimate, and there's an air of excitement that wasn't there minutes before; it could just be to do with the thrill of trying something new, or it could be something deeper than that. Either way, it's exhilarating, and Waylon lies down onto his side, wraps a hand around himself and enjoys the things he notices about them. A lot of things he's seen before - the way Miles holds himself above her, his body lifted enough for his weight to be off her, but low enough for her breasts to make contact with his chest, is not new. The way she isn't content with keeping her hands to herself, and runs them up his sides, is not new. The way they try not to look at Waylon - try not to break the facade of the performance, the voyeurism - but can't help a glance whenever he makes a sound indicative of how much he is enjoying the show, and the way his own hand feels around himself, is definitely not new.

The way Miles' cock is bare when it bumps against her stomach, and smears pre-come across it in a tantalising streak that Waylon urges to lick off her, is very new, and the heightened enthusiasm with which they both gasp and moan when he enters her for the second time that night, is so new and so good that he joins them, squeezes the head of his own dick in a desperate attempt to empathise with what Miles is feeling. He already can. He knows how heavenly she feels, and he knows how much of a difference the contact makes. He knows how, with no barrier, it feels perfect - warm and soft - and it clings and he feels like he belongs. It's an incomparable intimacy, and as it sinks in that this is what Miles has been missing out on, he faintly feels sorry for him - but it's okay. He is giving this to Miles. Lisa is his home, and he has finally collected the courage to make it Miles' home as well.

"God," Miles breathes. He's moving inside her, and she's lifting her hips to meet him, and it's so gorgeous that Waylon can't seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Lisa is looking up at Miles with an expression of determination - she's always been a pleaser by nature, and he knows that look. Waylon thinks she's doing to Miles what she does to him, squeezing herself around him, seeing what she can make him say and do, how she can make him feel. Her mouth is open and she's breathing hotly - the contact must feel incredible for her too, and Waylon is suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss her, so he does. He leans over and presses his mouth to her neck; Miles leans out of the way, resting his head in the crook of her shoulder while he thrusts deeply, and she tangles her fingers in his hair as Waylon engages her in a deep kiss. He tries to pour into it everything he is feeling, all of his excitement and his approval; he wants them to feel it too.

He's not sure if he wants this to just be a one-off thing anymore, but he decides not to think about it. He's close. He's involved himself now, so Lisa has no problems with reaching out and touching him. Their fingers brush over each other and her thumb swipes over the tip - she focuses there because she knows it feels good, god does it feel good. He exhales into her mouth with a shaky groan and she answers back. He's fucking  _leaking_ it feels so good, and Miles must be too, because he's moving with more vigour and he's leaned all his weight on one hand and slid the other under the small of her back to lift her, get a better angle and go deeper, like he always does when he's close. Then Waylon remembers what he said.

_Pull out. That's the only rule._

He doesn't want to remind MIles. He doesn't think he would have to, but there's another reason.

"Miles," he gasps, pulling back from the kiss.

He didn't mean it as a warning, but Miles took it as one, and he pulls back and out, reflexively, grating out rough, desperate breaths and removing his hand from under Lisa to wrap around himself.

"No," Waylon tells him quickly. "No, just..."

Miles pinches the base of his dick between thumb and forefinger, and steadies himself with a few shaking breaths before looking up to Waylon. God, he's close. Waylon can see it in his eyes - they're lidded and heavy, and he looks as though he might just beg. He won't, though. "Waylon?"

The smaller man kisses Lisa again, briefly, just once, like he has to give her a quick goodbye every time he moves more than a foot away from her, and crawls close to Miles. He kneels behind him and eases him into an upright position, sitting him back onto Waylon's thighs. He strokes his hands down Miles' sides, his back, his shoulders, kisses the hairline on the back of his neck. Miles shivers. "It's okay," he says, and strokes his hand along Lisa's right calf, beckoning her forward. "Leese."

"Waylon," Miles says. He's not being given enough information, Waylon knows that. He's been told to do as he says, and while Miles is usually anything but compliant, he knows when he needs to be.

"I've changed my mind," he answers. He sees Lisa's head tip back, and she bites her lip, and that's a good sign. She tilts her hips back up towards Miles, and Waylon guides him back into her again. He groans, and Waylon's heart hammers at the sight of them. Miles doesn't move, as if he's still not sure if he heard Waylon right, didn't want to slip up, so Waylon encourages him. He rocks his hips forward, grinding his hard dick - _god_ , that feels good - into the small of Miles' back, guides him to move inside Lisa again, and at that it seems like Miles has had his confirmation, because he moans desperately and joins in the movement. He understands now, but still Waylon can't resist pressing his face into the hair just behind Miles' ear and breathing out the words themselves. "Let go...  _fuck,_ let go."

And he does. He tips his head back onto Waylon's shoulder, and he thinks that maybe it's a gesture of thanks, or maybe it's simpler than that. He cants his hips erratically, gripping Lisa's thighs hard, closes his eyes and holds his breath until it escapes as a low groan that highlights the act - Waylon is overwhelmed as he pictures it, because he can't see it, but he knows Miles' cock is twitching and he's coming inside her and it's too much, and Waylon bites down on MIles' shoulder as he follows him over.

When he opens his eyes and the world fades back into view, Lisa looks content. He can't remember if he noticed her touching herself, but she has this glow about her that he knows all too well. There's no doubt she's satisfied when she gives him a lazy smile and holds his eye contact as she stretches her arms towards the headboard, like a tired kitten. Miles must have had an intense one, because he's still not lifted his head from Waylon's shoulder, and when he does finally lift it, he mutters something as he looks Lisa over which sounds a lot like, "Thank you," but Waylon can't be sure, and he decides he doesn't have to.

They fall asleep together that night, and Miles stays all the way through til morning.


End file.
